


The Mystery Of Love

by ThreeStarsUnderCentauri, xxmirandaxx



Series: The Time We Take For Granted [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, M/M, Maria Stark's A+ Parenting, Nightmares, No Smut, Past Sexual Assault, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, call me by your name inspired, no underage Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-23 22:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeStarsUnderCentauri/pseuds/ThreeStarsUnderCentauri, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxmirandaxx/pseuds/xxmirandaxx
Summary: Peter can't wait to go with May to their summer home like they do every year.What he doesn't know is that she's invited a few guests.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You mean to tell me I'll have to share a room with him. For a whole month,” Peter puts his head in his palms and groans, “You’ve gotta be kidding me. ”

Summer has always been Peter's favorite season, mostly because of summer break, but this year he’s looking forward to it more than usual. His high school graduation took place just a few weeks ago and now he’s headed to the lake house he’d been longing to see all year.

 

“Are you excited for the trip? I know we’ve come here every year since I can remember, but I just hope you haven't outgrown the lake house.”

 

Peter turns his attention to his aunt, looking at her for a moment before coming out of the daze he was in and letting a small grin slip onto his face.

 

“How could I outgrow the one place we don’t have to hear Ronaldo yelling at his TV, or worse, listen to Elena stomping around the apartment above us?”

 

A short laugh is shared between the two before they settle into a comfortable silence and the hum of the road returns. Peter glances out the window again and is greeted with a sign welcoming him to North Carolina: the “Tar Heel State”.

 

“Hey, can you read me the route again? God, I always get confused getting off the bridge.”

 

May hands Peter her phone and he reads out the directions, “Uh, it says turn off of 85 to highway 401.”

 

As Peter hands the phone back to May, she gives him a funny look. It’s a face Peter knows all too well; the same face he gets every time May forgets to mention something important. With a roll of his eyes, Peter draws a long breath and begins to think of all the things she likely forgot to pack.

 

“Okay, uh, I _may_ have forgotten to tell you something important about the trip, but please don’t get too upset when I tell you.”

 

The car rolls to a stop at the light and she gives him a pleading motion of the hands. Peter simply gives her an exasperated sigh and she continues on.

 

“Well, last week at work my friend Maria and I were talking about getting together on our time off, and the lake house part just kinda slipped out, but I still invited here to stay with us; it's not like we don't have the extra bedroom,” the way his eyes widened paired with the small “what” that left his mouth made her wince a little before continuing, “Now, before you start, she’s really nice and It’ll give you a chance to be at the cabin alone... Well, maybe not completely alone.”

 

He gestures to the green light and she makes a left turn onto a street surrounded by trees.

 

“Why did you wait till now to tell me this! You literally had a week to mention it, and I thought the lake house was supposed to be for you and I to hang out-” he pauses a moment before processing the rest of her sentence, “Wait, what did you mean by not ‘completely’ alone?”

 

She gulps and gives a hesitant grimace, “Maria has a son, Tony, who I also invited to come to the lake house. As you know, there are only three rooms, so you’ll have to bunk with him.”

 

Oh, that was the last straw.

 

“You mean to tell me I'll have to share a room with him. For a whole month,” Peter puts his head in his palms and groans, “You’ve gotta be kidding me. ”

 

May purses her lips for a moment, obviously apologetic for the situation, but continues, “I really think you and Tony will get along just fine. He graduated from MIT, so maybe he could give you some tips on college. Please try to work with me Peter, I’m sorry I didn't mention it sooner.”

 

Instead of acknowledging her apology, Peter ignores it and asks about his new roommate.

 

“You say he graduated from college. How old is this guy, anyway?”

 

Peter imagines having to share his room with some 40 year old guy for the remainder of his trip, just the thought gives him shivers.

 

“He’s, like, 24 I think? Not too much older than you, actually.”

 

A sarcastic laugh escapes his throat. “Ah, well that's reassuring,“ he bites out, ending the conversation abruptly.

 

Well, it’s too late to head back home now, so he doesn’t have many choices other than to muscle through it. After sifting through his bag for his phone and headphones, he puts his playlist on shuffle.

 

The car eventually whizzes past the small sign reading: “Welcome To Littleton, The Little Town With A Big HEART. “

 

“I’ve always wondered why your parents picked this town. Out of all the places they could have bought a lake house in, they chose this one.”

 

May continues to drone on, talking about how bizarre the town is and how much she loves Lake Gaston for what seems to be forever. Peter decides to leave one headphone in, letting her think he’s listening but really just getting lost in his music.

 

The sun is setting by the time they pull into the long driveway leading to the house, the sky painted with an array of colors.

 

As soon as the car comes to a complete stop he is opening the car door, getting out and stretching before retrieving his bags from the trunk. May tosses him the keys to the house, mouthing _I'm gonna call her real quick._ Peter turns on his heels and unlocks the door, immediately breathing in the stale air inside.

 

Taking his shoes off at the door, he walks down the hall and sets his things on the sofa. Peter pads over into the kitchen and opens the cupboard, noticing how low they are on canned foods. “Hey May, don’t forget that we need to go to the grocery store soon.”

 

Waiting a moment for a reply, Peter peeks around the corner and remembers he’s all alone and talking to an empty house. With an annoyed huff, he heads back towards the front door to negotiate dinner with May, but as soon as he opens the door he’s met with two strangers. The woman is the first to notice him, jumping a bit in surprise.

 

“You must be Peter!” the shorter woman shakes his hand in greeting, “May has told me all about you. I’m Maria, a friend of your aunt’s,” She smiles at him for a moment before motioning to the man next to her, “And this is my son, Tony,” a somewhat familiar grin spreads onto Tony’s face as he takes Peter’s hand for a handshake.

 

“So where am I sleeping? I am currently nursing one hell of a headache and I would love to lay down,” he chuckles lightly, a stark contrast to the slight grimace on his face. “Speaking of headaches, you guys got any ibuprofen? Maybe some alcohol?” The last part seemed to act as a jab.

 

Maria gives him a pointed look as they step inside, and Peter glances back to May and mouths, _do we?_ May shakes her head quickly and they follow the two upstairs.

 

“Peter, why don’t you show Tony to your guys’s room.”

 

They separate and Peter makes his way to his (or should he say their) bedroom with Tony in tow. As he opens the door, Tony walks past him and enters the room, immediately sprawling out on the mattress and looking up at Peter .

 

“So are we gonna be cuddle buddies on this twin bed, or is one of us taking the floor?”

 

Peter raises an eyebrow and walks over to the bed Tony's currently occupying, and he pulls out the mattress from below it, and snorts.

 

“ _Not a chance_ , this is where I’m sleeping.”

 

The older man smirked at that, closing his eyes. “Touchy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Updates will be every Saturday, let me know down in the comments what you think so far!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony spend some quality time together, and Peter gets a new nickname.

“Wakey wakey, Peter. Time to get up.”

 

Tony leans his head over the bed and shakes the mattress once more, finally waking Peter up.

 

“If It's before nine, I'm gonna be pissed.” Peter grumbles as he sits up and stretches.

 

Tony checks his phone nervously, “ It is currently ten twenty-four.” With a curt nod, he stands up slowly and shuffles towards the door. With a look over his shoulder, Peter finds that Tony is still sitting on the bed, looking at him sideways.

 

“Why are you staring at me?”

 

Tony just looks down smugly and Peter is suddenly aware of how well the air conditioner was working, glancing down only to see his pants on the floor, mocking him.

 

“I think I have a new nickname for you, Spider-Man,” the other man ends the sentence with a wide grin, and Peter’s face turns the same red as his underwear.

 

“Get out!”

 

******

 

Peter heads out of the bedroom, now fully clothed and ready to hear about it later. He walks steadily down the hall and glances to his left where a circular mirror is hung on the wall.

 

 _The bell rang, immediately causing his anxiety to kick in and his breath to quicken. He hesitantly joined the rest of the kids exiting his classroom into the packed hallway. Once outside, Peter heard_ his _laugh over all of the other noises around him._

 

_It was distinct; low and loud enough for him to hear all the way across the courtyard. Peter slowly followed the source of the familiar sound with his eyes and there he was. His smile was one of pride, they both knew that shouldn't have been the case. His laugh tore through Peter like a cold breeze cuts through a thin t-shirt. It seemed to grow louder and louder, almost as though more people were joini-_

 

Peter is shaken out of his daze by three boisterous laughs coming from downstairs.

 

God, if only he could forget the past.

 

Looking over his miserable reflection one last time, he slowly heads down the stairs, trying to catch the mood of conversation between the three before intruding.

 

“Well, there’s the WaterView restaurant we can go to for lunch, or we could stop at Tammy’s Place and get coffee?”

 

“Well, I don't care where we go to eat, I’m still trying to figure out how to get there sober.”

 

That stops him dead in his tracks.

 

Maria chimes in, her words sounding forced, “We didn't come here for you to constantly make jokes about your little issue. How about you stay here with Peter, while we go get something for everyone to eat.”

 

“Fine, but wherever you decide to go, can I get a cheeseburger? No sauce, everything else though. Thanks.”

 

Deciding that the ultimate mood down there isn't looking too good, Peter quickly makes his way into the living room.

 

“Good morning everyone, sorry for waking up late. May, have you made any decisions on lunch?”

 

May looks up from the two currently annoyed guests and shakes her head.

 

“No, but I’ll probably just take Maria out and show her around. You wanna give Tony a tour, maybe grab a bite while you're at it? Take our bikes out if you’d like, it's a short ride to town; no worries Tony.”

 

With a nod of their heads, Maria and May stand up, grab their purses off of the couch and walk towards the door.

 

“You two better be careful, alright? Keys to the house in the kitchen, be safe, I love you!”

 

May exclaims as the two head out the door, letting a wave of warm air inside. The front door shuts with an unsettling sense of finality.   


“Are you alone often during your visits here?”

 

A curious voice prods from the opposite couch, Tony peers over at Peter patiently waiting for a response.

 

“Well, I-I mean, not normally? Our visits usually consist of me and her swimming in the lake out back, watching movies, and shopping at the local stores. We’re always together,” Peter adds the last part to his reply with spite. “That is, of course, until you guys came along.”

 

Tony wanders into the kitchen, seemingly ignoring his irate answer, and opens the pantry looking for something substantial. He eventually picks two cans of mixed fruit that Peter had no idea existed until now and sets them down on the island in the center of the room.

 

“Well.” Tony starts, searching for forks in different drawers, finally finding two and setting one by what Peter believes to be his can. “I take it you aren't very happy about me and dear old mother being here from that passive aggressive comment you just made, and that's okay. Honestly, I wouldn't be happy either.”

 

Tony pulls off the lid to the can and starts to eat at the contents inside.

 

“But, I just want you to know that I had little choice in coming here, so don't be too mad at me.”

 

Beckoned by hunger, Peter walks over to the island in the kitchen where his canned fruits lie.

 

“Why is that? Why did you have no choice but come?” Peter asks, genuinely curious of what the real answer is, his previous irritation gone.  He plops a pineapple into his mouth while waiting, mirroring Tony and leaning against the island.

 

“Well, the real answer is that my father didn't want me or my mother in the house while he continues to screw one or several, of his co-workers. But the one that everyone else believes is that my mom wanted her problematic son to have fun this summer without getting wasted. As if it's not happening regardless.”

 

Tony just watches Peter's taken aback expression for a moment before they both resume eating away at the palatable canned goods. Peter thinks of twenty different responses, but instead replies with, “Wow. How did you figure all that out?” Oh yeah, great choice.

 

Tony looks down at his shoes, seeming distressed for a moment before he quickly wipes the expression away and plasters on a pained grin.

 

“I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that his secretaries sneak in and out of the house on a regular basis. Especially when it’s every time mom is gone,” Tony chuckles and shakes his head slowly, “and here I was thinking that the reason he didn't want me in his office was because he thought I would screw up all his _Stark Industries_ paperwork.”

Confusion splayed across Peter's face before his eyes grew wide, finally coming to realize something he’d kick himself for later.

 

“Holy shit, you're Tony _Stark_ ; your father owns Stark Industries.”

 

Tony smiles and nods his head slowly at his late realization.

 

“The one and only, although I’m quite surprised it took you this long. On a different topic, can you take us to the closest grocery store? My fruit can is empty and so is your fridge.”

 

Peter hides the rest of his excitement, not wanting to be too overbearing, and decides the two needed to head out. He shuffles away from the cold countertop and grabs the keys, looking over at Tony with a slight grin on his face .

 

“Lead the way Spidey.” Tony muses from behind Peter and he rolls his eyes.

 

“You're never gonna let me forget you saw that, are you?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Peter laughs and shuts off the lights, heading out the front door and making sure to lock it behind him. They go down the steps of the porch, heading towards the bike rack at the end of the long driveway. The walk was held in comfortable silence.

 

Finally making it to the end, the two unhook and mount their bikes, heading down Forest Hill’s long, winding road. Slowly but surely they began making their way down to Littleton’s more populated area.

 

As they pedal steadily side by side, Peter gazes over at Tony, who is admiring the scenery around them. Tony’s head is slightly tilted up, gazing at the trees and the sky above. The vast blue surface reminds him of the lake behind their home, somewhere Peter would show Tony tomorrow. Tony’s brown eyes lazily scan ahead of them before snapping to Peter's, his face contorted into fear.

 

“Get out of the way!”

 

Unsure of what he means, Peter glances ahead to see a car speeding towards the two, showing no hint of slowing down. Tony rams his bike into Peter's, knocking them both off the road and into some strangers yard.

 

Peter hit the ground first, and then Tony tumbled off of his bike onto him. Tony realizes his current position is straddling Peter's hips, with his hands on either side of his head, so he scrambles off of Peter and extends a hand to help him up. After that accident the two dust off their clothes and check themselves for any injuries. Apparently Tony brushes it off , because once they get back onto their bikes he mentions nothing of it; Peter does the same.

 

“That asshole in the minivan wasn't even paying attention.” Tony scoffs, his heart still pounding in his chest. Peter looks over at him at that, a bit of awe in his voice.

 

“Tony, if you hadn't have done anything we would be roadkill right now.”

 

“No problem. You would have done the same, right?.”

 

Peter smiles at him, “Yeah, I would have.”

 

A small voice niggles in back of his head. _“Stop while you're ahead Peter; don’t forget the last time you trusted som-,”_ he stops that thought there, suddenly turning his face away from the other and speeding up.

 

“We have to go to the store soon if we want there to be anything in the fridge when we get home in time for dinner.”

 

*****

 

“You mean to tell me the two of you managed to bring back _all_ of these groceries while on the bikes? Sheesh, and that's after that maniac almost ran the two of you over.”

 

“Well, Tony over here decided to hang some from his neck, which was genius by the way,” Peter comments from beside the fridge, relieved at finally having a fridge with actual food in it again.

 

“Peter was the one who picked out all the right things. We all would have been screwed if I had gone solo.” Tony jests from the living room, where Maria and May were currently lounging as well. Dinner and some distance from each other had thankfully eased the tension between Maria and Tony. Peter saunters over from the kitchen to join the group, plopping onto the couch and letting his shoulders fall a little.

 

“It's getting pretty late, Peter why don’t you show Tony the lake tomorrow?”

 

May glances to Maria for a moment before rising from the plush cushions to stretch her back out, resulting in a myriad of soft popping sounds.

 

“Sounds good May, night,” he said, a small smile appearing on Peter’s face as she smiles back.

 

He watches as her form moves up the stairs and off to bed, the soft sound of her feet overhead signaling that he should probably do the same.

 

“Well, I'll head up as well. You two should get to bed.” Maria gives them a head tilt and raises her eyebrows, a look that says _now please._

 

“Okay, okay,” Peter mutters, getting up and subsequently looking behind himself to see Tony getting up as well.

 

The three of them all take part in the ritual of shutting everything off; soon after, they head up the stairs and whisper to one another “goodnight” and go their separate ways. Once they are both in the room, Peter yawns; the day finally seems to be catching up to him.

 

“Hey, thanks for today. I actually had a lot of fun,” Tony says, a surprised chuckle escaping him, “More fun than I've had in awhile.”

 

Peter just nods his head and turns the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly. He busies himself with pulling the mattress out and laying sheets over it, smoothing out any wrinkles in the process.

 

_"Come on Pete, just lie back on the bed. I'm your friend right? Don't you trust me?"_

 

He gets under the covers, just a little tenser than before.

 

“Me too, g’night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the update! Give us some love through comments and kudos! Happy suffering til next Saturday~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares are nothing new for Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter contains strong references to past sexual assault.

“Why am I the only one in the water?” Peter shouts, irritated and _very_ close to getting out of the water himself. Tony doesn’t even look in his general direction, a little too occupied with the two blonde girls he was standing next to on the beach, both of whom are obviously aware of who he is and _definitely trying to get in his pants._

 

Peter remembers the visit to Littleton from a couple of summers ago; he was happy to be away from the bustling city and all of its inhabitants. He can remember the warm water lapping at his ankles, the sun's heat directed onto his back. May had joined him outside to help him apply more sunscreen, if he recalls correctly. He burned anyways.

 

Peter smiles softly at the thought before letting out a heavy sigh and deciding to get out of the lake, feeling lonely in the water all by himself. He takes a few steps onto dry land, enjoying the feel of the sand slipping between his toes, and slides on his sandals. He glances over at Tony and the two girls he's entertaining, only to find that the other looking at him as well. Tony grins at him casually, turning back and continuing his conversation as though he hadn’t seen him in the first place.

 

Ugh.

 

Peter huffs in disgruntlement, snatching his bag from it’s spot on the ground and swinging it onto his shoulder; his feet slapped loudly against the ground the entire walk back, a number of slurs slipping out of his mouth on his way there.

 

Approaching the back door, Peter decides to sneak one last glance at Tony—

 

Only to see his hand trekking down one of the girl’s waists, reaching her ass and resting there like it was fucking _made to be th—_

 

A frustrated groan leaves his mouth as he steps inside and slams the door shut. What Peter needs right now is a very, very long nap. Feeling too exhausted to go upstairs, Peter grabs the thickest blanket they have and curls up with it on the couch. He’s soon whisked away by sleep like a strong breeze does a fallen leaf.

 

_****_

 

_Peter sat down on the brown leather couch, looking around Skip's now familiar living room. He’d been invited over several times, the reason for that due to May worrying too much about Peter being alone._

 

_Skip’s mom was never home whenever Peter visited, busy with work and all, which gave the two of them time to talk and be as loud as they pleased. Skip walked over to Peter and handed him a pepsi (his favorite)._

 

_It seemed as though it was just yesterday that Peter and Skip had met at the public library; he had been studying his math vocabulary terms when an older boy approached him._

 

_“I feel like I've seen you around here before,” he motioned towards Peter's textbook with a grin, “I take it you’re the type of kid who constantly has a book in hand? My name is Steven Westcott, but you can call me Skip!”_

 

_Being young and shy, Peter managed a nervous, “ Um, hi Skip!”_

 

_After that day the two had become inseparable. Skip would often walk Peter home from school, greeting him at the front doors with something like, “Hey Einstein, you ready to get out of here?”; sometimes the high schooler would even buy Peter a snack for the short walk home, what with having a job and all._

 

 _Peter smiled at the plethora of fond memories the two shared, coming out of his memories and back into Skip’s living room._   


_“Hey Einstein, how about I show you something real quick.”_

 

_Peter nodded and followed him to his bedroom, the only room in the house he had never been in. Skip motioned to his bed, which sat in the corner of the room, and Peter took a seat._

 

_“So what did you want to show me?”_

 

_Skip walked over to his book shelf and pulled out a small collection of magazines. He handed one to Peter, “Bet you've never seen pictures like that in a stuffy textbook!” Peter flipped through the pages and felt his throat go dry, the photos inside making him uneasy._

 

_“Uh, no.” Peter muttered, feeling shocked at what he’d just been shown._

 

_“Come on Einstein, let's conduct a little experiment of our own! Let's see if we can touch each other like the people in that magazine!” Panic began to set in as he realized exactly what Skip had in mind, desperation seeping into his voice, “Please Skip, dont! I want to go home!”_

 

_Peter was paralyzed with fear, far too weak to fight off the older, more powerful boy. His large hand pressed against Peter's chest. “Come on Pete, just lie back on the bed. I'm your friend right? Don't you trust me?”_

  


Peter awakens with a jolt, looking around the room before realizing that he can't remember when he fell asleep. He tries to swing his legs off the couch but can't seem to get up, the fear still holding him down as it once did six years ago.

 

Peter blinks away a few tears, still able to feel a phantom hand on his inner thigh. Peter struggles to catch his breath and wishes he could just _move._

 

“I mean, he’s just so distant. I understand he had a lot of issues with bullying in high school, but still... I feel so out of place even trying to initiate a casual conversation some days.”

 

That uncertain voice was unmistakably May’s.

 

“Tony is the same way, except he wasn't really bullied in school. He’s smart, and yet so ignorant; it's no surprise that Howard won't let Tony run the company until he’s older,” she lets out a loud sigh, before speaking again. “Personally, I don't think he should ever get to.”

 

Maria pauses to take a sip of something, “He’s absolutely irresponsible and hard to be around sometimes. I know it sounds harsh, and don't get me wrong I love Tony, but giving him Stark Industries is not worth the risk of losing everything Howard has built.”

 

Peter wants to get up off the couch and completely _destroy_ Maria for saying something so awful about Tony, but his anxiety isn't done with him just yet. It takes Peter several more tortuous moments to slow his breathing down and calm himself.

 

“Is Tony still out? I thought I saw him with some girls, but I expected him to come back an hour or two ago.” May asks her, both sitting in wonder for a moment before rambling on. When Peter is finally capable of moving, he slowly gets up off the couch and stretches his legs.

 

“Oh, hey Peter,” May glances over at Maria with worry as she continues, “you wouldn’t happen to have any idea where Tony wandered off to, would you? He won't answer my calls.”

 

With a shake of his head Peter grunts, “No idea. Do you want me to go look for him?”

 

“Yeah, can you please? I'm kind of worried.”

 

****

 

Kicking what seems to be the same stone eight times in a row, Peter groans in defeat. There were only so many places one could go in Littleton, and Tony seems to be nowhere in sight. Picking up the small rock, Peter tosses it as far as his arm will allow. That's when a faint splash comes from the vast lake before him and Peter spots what he had been struggling to find for the past half-hour.

 

Tony stands still in the water, unmistakable despite the lack of light, eyes gazing up at the moonlit sky. His head was just barely bobbing above the water, almost like bait in a pond. Peter waves his hands in a large motion of _get your ass over here_ , but Tony either can't see it or he chooses not to.

 

“Tony, get out of the water.”

 

Tony’s head quickly snaps to the source of the voice before he realizes who it is. With a visible grin, Tony waves to him as if what he's doing is completely normal.

 

“Care for a late night dip in the water?”

 

Tony’s offer is tempting, but he resists the urge to dive in and join him. Instead he decides to do what he came outside to do.

 

“I do care, actually. Enough to tell you that your mom is worried about where you are and that I'm pretty sure I just spent like thirty minutes playing search and rescue. So get out of the water and come inside.”

 

Tony huffs and starts to make his his way over to the shore where Peter stands, impatiently watching him paddle over. Peter sneakily watches Tony dry off, which he must admit is quite the sight. Tony leans over to pat his legs and swimming trunks dry, which also places his butt directly into Peter's line of sight.

 

After Tony is done drying off (as well as making Peter's shorts feel uncomfortably tight) they head back to the lake house.

 

“What have you been doing the past couple of hours?”

 

Peter asks once their destination is finally in sight. Dim light from the kitchen and living room windows shines in the dark, softly illuminating the backyard.

 

“Well, after those two lovely ladies invited me to a little get together they were having, I had a few drinks—well more than a few—” Tony paused to clear his throat, “I socialized a bit, and then I decided to hop in that lake over there. Where a young man then proceeded to scold me out of the lake.”

 

Tony adds a smile at the end to let Peter know he speaks in all playfulness, and they near the  steps of the back porch.

 

“Why did you leave earlier, Peter?”

 

Peter turns around to face him, looks him dead in the eyes.

 

“I don't appreciate being ditched, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to update a wee bit earlier (by like, an hour) Hope you like where the story is going so far, sorry if this seems pretty short and somewhat a filler but every chapter has a purpose over yonder. Tell me what you think for far, or feel free to spill any theories


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the tension rises.

”Oh come on, _scrub it_. The car won't bite."

Tony nudges his shoulder playfully but only receives a look of irritation from Peter.

“I _am_ scrubbing,” Peter makes a show of cleaning the windshield, “see?”

Tony gives the nod of approval and continues cleaning the passenger side window. Looking over the spot he had just deemed clean enough, Peter moves onto the right rear tire. The tension in the garage was thick, a quiet war going on inside of him; his conscience was currently debating on whether or not pursuing Tony is a good idea (which it probably wasn’t, but when did bad ideas ever stop him).

_Tony has mess written all over him._

He knows Tony didn't mean anything by leaving yesterday, but the thing irritating him the most is that Tony hasn't even shown a hint of guilt. Thinking about that makes Peter clean even harder.

Apparently deciding that the warm weather was too much, Tony takes off his shirt, using it as a rag to wipe off the sweat dripping down his forehead. He tries his hardest to not stare but the way Tony is leaning over the car, strong arms at work, makes his face flush red. Peter internally groans, _well that's not helping_.

Reaching down to wet his sponge again, he realizes that the only way to get Tony Stark to apologize is to be as upfront as possible. “Were you planning on saying sorry for yesterday?”

Tony looks like a deer caught in the headlights when he turns around to face Peter.

“I wasn't sure if you were actually pissed off or not, but I guess that answers my question. So yeah, I'm really sorry Peter. It won't happen again,” Tony flashes his infamous smirk and holds up three fingers, ”Scout's honor.”

“Huh,” Peter says, in slight awe for a moment, “That was a lot easier than I expected, all things considered.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he guffaws, “I, Tony Stark, am a man of respect and couth.” Tony grabs his soaked sponge and saunters towards Peter with it in his hand. Peter swiftly grabs his own sponge and starts to back up, a knowing smile creeping onto his face.

“I find that hard to believe, with your playboy reputation.”

Peter ducks away from the water being flung his way, flicking his own sudsy sponge back in Tony’s direction. Tony fails to maneuver away from Peter's attack in time and ends up soaked head to toe in dirty soap water.

Peter cackles at him. “Wow Tony,” he mocks, taking a long stride towards him, “you let your guard down for one second and this is what happens? Guess this means I wi—” But before Peter can finish his sentence, Tony has him pinned by his arms against the car.

He stays frozen in place, suddenly unsure on whether he wants to panic or laugh, and allows Tony keep him in that position; back flush against the wet and freezing metal, his clothed chest pressed against Tony's bare one in a way that makes him _very_ aware of all points of contact.

Peter can feel the ghost of Tony’s breath on his nose, which sends chills down his spine. Peter’s mind is screaming _danger_ , yet every inch of Tony that is touching his own, including the knee between his legs, screams for _more_.

Peter and Tony stand there for what seems an eternity, and Tony studies his face the whole time; he watches as Tony looks fixedly at his nose, Peter already knowing that he was looking at the array of freckles spread on his face and, ever so briefly, his lips.

“ _You_ let your guard down, so _I_  win.”

Peter's gaze shifts from Tony’s eyes to his slightly parted lips and Tony begins to close the space in between them.

“Tony don't, ” Peter whispers, looking up at him in shock, “wait..”

Tony stops mid-movement and slowly takes a few steps backwards, disappointment and embarrassment clearly painted across his face.

“I'm so sorry—I thought... Let's just pretend that whatever that was never happened, okay? I'm pretty sure the car is cleaned well enough, so I’m gonna go inside and take a quick shower..” Tony trailed off, nearly stumbling in his haste to move away. All Peter could do was nod dazedly before Tony was rushing out of the garage and leaving him in silence. The sound of the front door shutting is what shakes Peter back into reality.

  
Peter follows after him halfway, hesitating at the steps. He figures that nothing good could come from him chasing after Tony, so Peter just stares at the door for a little while longer before turning around to face the lengthy driveway. He takes in the gorgeous scenery around him and inhales deeply; in all honesty, it was probably less about appreciating the scenery and more about him making some effort to himself down. He lets out the deep breath, still stuck trying to wrap his head around _what the hell just happened_.

Peter attempts to reassure himself that _that_ was simply Tony screwing with him (in some sort of sick and twisted game), but his body is still telling him otherwise.

  
****

  
It wasn’t until later that day that he saw Tony again. Peter had been trying to avoid him ever since that morning, afraid of what might escape either of their mouths. Tony wasn't even attempting to be discreet about his state of upset over the matter, as he had been squaring himself away in their room for the last two hours that Peter had been downstairs watching TV. Of course, by “watching” he actually meant thinking about what had happened in the garage on repeat.

Peter wraps the blanket tighter around himself at the thoughts and watches the movie with unfocused eyes. Later, after the credits are rolling, May calls everyone into the kitchen for dinner. She had ordered from a local pizza place earlier on the phone, and now a knock announces their presence at the door.

Peter knew exactly how this would play out (or he at least thought he knew): Tony would act like nothing happened, there would be awkward dinner talk, and they would move on. Maria set plates on the table for all of them and Peter helped bring the boxes to the table.

“So, boys, is there anything in particular you guys want to do while we’re here? We can take a short trip out of Littleton and rejoin the human population,” May joked, “or we can have a nice dinner at Cannolis or something? We make a point to go there every summer, right Peter?”

The stares of the three rush Peter into answering.

“Yeah, we should definitely do Cannoli’s. Everyone likes Italian, right?” A hum of approval fills the silence before May starts up a conversation with Tony, something about the difference between fresh and packaged pasta. Peter tunes out almost immediately after they start talking, what happened earlier weighing heavy on his mind, and eats slowly. He can't help but question how the remainder of the vacation will pan out.

What if Tony and him never return to normal (not that his pining could be considered normal)?

“Peter, you still with us?” Tony asks him, reeling him back into reality.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry. What was the question?”

“I was saying that May mentioned you were interested in studying engineering or physics?”

Peter groaned internally. College was the last thing Peter wanted to worry about; he just finished high school and his summer vacation was meant to be stress-free.

“Well, my dream school is MIT, but honestly any one of them will do,” Peter looks down at his pizza slice and acts as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

“I see. Well, I'm sure you'll do just fine in college next year; a mind like yours can really go places, and from what May told me, you've always been like Einstein.”

Tony chuckles at the silly nickname and May nods her head in agreement, both so painfully ignorant as to what it actually meant to Peter. “He's always hated when I call him my little Einstein, not sure why. It's a compliment,” Peter feels his stomach churn at the mention of _his_ nickname for Peter, his appetite dissolving instantly. He lets out a nervous chuckle and gets out of his chair.

“I'm gonna head upstairs guys, I'm feeling pretty wiped out from this morning. Thank you again for dinner May, good night,” Peter says, already making his way to the trashcan to throw away the rest of his food before racing up the steps.

The last thing he wants for Tony is to think he's mad at him, but the mention of that name has always made him uneasy. Peter decides to push away _those_ thoughts and even more negative ones emerge. How he’d reacted earlier in the morning probably gave Tony the idea that Peter didn't like him. _“Tony don’t, wait..”_ Peter mentally slaps himself. What if Tony had already lost interest in him because of how he stupidly responded to the attempted kiss? He should have just went with it. Peter puts his bed together a little rougher than needed and flops onto the edge of it, letting out a loud groan. How could everything get so confusing this quickly?

And to think, the disastrous lack of communication probably has Tony thinking Peter has _no_ interest in him, which is far from the truth. However, even with that in mind, Peter is unsure if he can confess something like that to him at the moment.

Peter recognizes the mixed emotions that are swirling through his thoughts for what they truly are; he’s falling for the prodigal son that is Tony Stark. He’d gone from irritated that Tony was going to ruin his trip to feeling a strong need for Tony's affection and company.

Before Peter can finish that thought, the door creaks open and Tony peeks his head through, surveying Peter for a moment before stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. Peter watches Tony kick off his socks and hop into his unkempt bed, acting as unbothered as humanly possible.

“Tony are we gonna talk about this morning, because I think you got the wr—” Tony interrupts him with a wave of his hand.

“Nope. We don't have to do that. I'm just trying to move past that, because, if I don't, I'm not sure what I'll do with myself. Let’s just go to bed and forget it ever happened.” Tony declares, turning away from him as he finishes.

Peter stares at his back for a moment before he starts to feel irritation swell up in his chest. If Tony would just _listen_ to him, then he would realize that Peter feels the same way about him. Tony gets out of bed and shuts off the bedroom light, plunging the two in darkness. Peter fumbles in the darkness searching for a weapon; he grasps a pillow and hurls it in Tony's general direction.

“No!” Peter suddenly hisses, almost surprising himself at the sudden outburst, “I won't let it go!”

Tony sighs exasperatedly, “Peter, please use your inside voice. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“We don't have to talk about it now, but I'm not forgetting about it anytime soon, so stop worrying about your ego being hurt.”

He can hear Tony shift in his bed as if contemplating a protest, but he stays silent. Peter grins and he finally feels the weight of his worry begin to ease off of his shoulders. He _will_ get the idea that he feels some sort of way about him through Tony’s thick skull.

For once in his life, Peter had a plan as to what he was going to do, and if everything went according to plan, tomorrow would be the perfect night to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys once again for all of your support! Leave your thoughts below, and we'll see you next week! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a habit of getting carried away.

The car ride is inevitably quiet, and Peter’s head is loud as he nervously recites the speech he’d prepared earlier in the day. Peter makes sure it's perfect, assuring himself that he can run through it with no stuttering. The four of them had bustled into the car minutes before, briefly mentioning how appetizing Italian cuisine sounded. 

 

Peter spent most of this time repeating the words in his head over and over, so he didn't notice that they had arrived until Tony nudged him. It was close by, just across the street from the grocery store they biked to only a couple of days ago. Together. Peter huffs and gets out of the car, shutting the door behind him and approaching the entrance. 

 

Tony holds the door open and they all step inside, the aromatic smell of garlic bread and a spice Peter can't quite name hitting him instantaneously. They walk up to the hostess and she greets them with a quaint smile. 

 

“Hello, is it just you four?” She looks between us and May nods. 

 

“Alright, follow me.” 

 

The hostess leads them to May’s favorite booth in the far corner; nearby, a large window provides a breathtaking view of the sky above (one mottled by stars at this point in the night). Peter sits down in the cushioned chair against the wall, and Tony sits right next to him, making it impossible to escape if he needed to. 

 

May and Maria fill in across from the two and May lets out a giddy squeal.

 

“I'm gonna get what you got last time Peter, the Giada’s Carbonara, was it? I've been waiting all year to try it and I can't wait.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter nods in agreement, “that was really good, but I might try something new this time.” 

 

Maria and Tony are both thoughtfully flipping through the menu, the former exclaiming once she finds what she wants to order. 

 

“Oh! Definitely whatever that is,” she points to a small photo of a pasta with zucchini and some sort of pesto drizzled on top of it. 

 

The waiter walks up to the table, introducing himself before asking what they wanted to drink.

 

“Four waters please,” May hesitates and then adds, “one with lemon.” 

 

The waiter nods and is about to walk away, but Tony suddenly hails him with a soft tug of the arm. 

 

“Actually can you make that three waters? I’d like a vodka,” the man scribbles an amendment to his order and clicks his pen in finality, ”thanks.” Peter takes a minute to wonder if maybe Tony's drinking because of stress of yesterday, or if it's the  _ little issue  _ Maria referenced to several days ago. Whichever one it is, that train of thought is lost once Tony speaks up.

 

“So what kind of dish should I get? You've been here before; what's really good?” 

 

Peter takes a look down at the menu before him and points to a grilled chicken dish. Tony nods. 

 

“That looks amazing, I'll have to order that.” Right as Tony finishes deciding what he wants, the waiter arrives and this time with a circular tray; four drinks lie on top. The man serves them their drinks and speeds away after taking their new order. 

 

*****

 

Tony finishes his drink and orders another, and another, and another, until Peter can't count how many times he's hailed the poor man. Dinner is still warm on the table, half eaten; nonetheless, everyone is attempting to finish and leave as soon as possible.

 

A blanket of irritation and awkwardness settles on the four, everyone else in the restaurant seemingly silent.    
  


“So, y’know mom. I've been meaning to tell you something. A very, very important something. Peter here knows what I'm gonna say,“ Tony serves a lopsided grin, “right Peter?” Peter glances down at his lap and his heart speeds up; he knows exactly what he's about to announce. 

 

“Peter, what is this he talking about?” May gives him a hard stare and refuses to look away until Peter meets her eyes. 

 

“I've got no idea May, I—I think we should, uh, get the check and head out of here, I'm full aren't you?” Peter rubs his stomach in a show of being stuffed and she frowns at him.

 

“Peter Benjamin Parker, don't you _ dare _ lie to me.”

 

Maria steps in to keep a fight from breaking out between them. “Tony, how about we just head back. Let’s save it for when you're not drunk and acting like a fool in public.” She moves to get up, ready to ask for the check, when Tony stops her. 

 

“Oh no, this can't wait. But I’m acting a fool? Really?” Tony's face scrunches up in disbelief and a deep chuckle sounds from his chest.    
  


“No, mom. You might play the fool, but you aren't fooling me anymore. I know, that you know, that my father is a lying bastard who’s been cheating on you for  _ years _ . And that you aren't going to leave him because then you’ll be all alo—”

 

“Now you stop right there Tony,” May puts a finger in the air to stop him, “I'm not your mother, but you cannot disrespect Maria like that. She does too much for you, not that you acknowledge it.” 

 

Tony laughs. “Well you are right about one thing: you're not my mother, _ thankfully _ . You're almost as bad as her.” He gestures with a wave of his hand towards Maria.

 

“Tony, I think you need to seriously chill out. You're drunk and you don't mean what you're saying. They don't deserve that,” Peter makes effort to stay neutral but as the words leave his mouth he knows that  he’s said the wrong thing.

 

“Really, you're gonna defend these two?” Peter reaches for Tony but he pulls his arm away and continues his rant. 

“I should probably tell you that the new one’s name is Emily.” Tony adds for an extra impact, ”You know, that one-twenty-something blonde at the front desk of Stark Industries, and she just  _ loves  _ screwing your husband.” He grins self-assured and awaits a response, but all Maria has to do is say seven words to make him stop.

 

“This is why Howard doesn't love you.”

  
  


*****

  
  


“Tony, slow down,” Peter begs, speeding up his jog to catch up to him. Tony keeps his gaze forward, as though he had said nothing at all. 

 

“Tony, come on! You're not yourself right now. Please don't be mad at me; I can't handle that, not after everything that’s happened.” Tony slows his pace and lets Peter catch his breath for a moment. 

 

The two are far away from the restaurant's view by now. Thankfully May and Maria hadn’t gone after them, instead opting to stay by the entrance where they were probably fuming over Tony's drunken behavior. 

 

Peter walks alongside Tony for a while, the two of them allowing the silence to settle as they make their way back to the lake house, waiting for the right moment to talk. 

 

“You shouldn't listen to her, I'm sure Howard loves you Tony. I mean, come on, there must be some good memories there.”

 

He scoffs at that, “He was cold, calculating man. He never told me he loved me, never even told me he liked me, so sorry if it's a bit hard for me to believe that. You're talking about a man whose happiest day of his life was shipping me off to boarding school.”   
  


Peter feels a sharp stab of guilt press hard into his chest. 

 

“Tony I'm sorry, I guess I just thought..” he trails off, “ I'm sorry about Howard, what your mom said, yesterday, and well... For everything.” He looks over at Tony and they both stop walking along the shoulder of the narrow street.    
  


“I know. I'm sorry too.”  

 

Peter grabs his arm and waits until Tony’s eyes are on him, because if not now, then when? The perfect time to say what he's had on his mind for days now is finally here. He takes in a deep breath and thinks back to the speech he’d prepared.

 

“Look, Tony. I understand that things have been rough, and that you’re going through a lot, but I want you to know that yesterday wasn't a mistake for me. And, you know, if you want to talk about it or anything else, I want you to be able to talk to me. I don't know how or why, but I feel like we were meant to meet each other, which I know seems odd because I'm just a broke kid from Queens and you're wealthy, and a genius who never would have looked at me twice—” 

 

And suddenly, Tony’s lips are on his and Peter maybe malfunctions a bit because  _ Tony is kissing him _ . He yanks away in shock but, after a split second of doubt, goes back in. The two of them put an end to the passionate moment synchronously, both slightly out of breath, and silently swear to continue another time.

 

“You rambled.”

 

“So does  _ that _ mean you like me?” Peter asks quietly, the fear of this all being some game to Tony making his head spin. “I need a yes, or—or a no, if that's how you feel, but I need some sort of confirmation.”

 

“Peter I immensely, completely, and utterly like you, in an odd way that I never have with anyone else before. ” 

 

Peter breathes a sigh of relief, “You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear those words.”

 

The two of them continue their stroll down the moonlit road, the seemingly endless night only serving to enhance the emotions swirling in their chests. 

 

Tony sighs, “Now that I'm thinking about it, I really am sorry about yesterday. I was acting weird because I was embarrassed, and that’s mostly because I’ve been in a similar situation before. By the way, I'm  _ not _ a fan of how my face ended up the last time I kissed a dude I wasn't sure about.”

 

Peter rolls his eyes playfully, “Trust me, I'm the same as you, just shorter, funnier, and nerdier.” 

 

Tony pushes him and gives an indignant shout. “You are so not funnier! You never saw me with my grandmother; she had alzheimer's. I honestly deserve an award for the amount of times I convinced her that it was still 1977, and that I came from the future to tell her that Betty White died.”

 

That gets a loud cackle from both of them, their laughs fill the street with noise until their stomachs hurt from laughing so hard. The two continue their journey home, spending every second of it trading funny stories and sharing things as simple as their favorite colors.

 

“Uh, red is the only acceptable answer for that question.” Peter gives him a sideways glance at this, his mouth sporting a playful grin. 

 

“Well then, you'll be happy to hear that red is, in fact, my favorite color.” He pauses, “Gold takes second place though.”

 

Peter nods his head in mock approval as they near the lake house. All of the lights are on, and Peter watches as the jovial look on Tony's face darkens considerably.

 

“You don't have to face her right now Tony.” 

 

Tony shakes his head and shoots him a guilty expression, “Yes I do. I didn't mean what I said back at the restaurant, and she deserves an apology.” 

 

“I don’t know, it’s not like she was completely in the right. She said… Well, you know that she probably won't be ready to accept it. I'm telling you right now, it might end badly,” he says, dropping his hands to his sides in an exasperated motion. 

 

“I understand, but I need to do this.“ Tony resolutely approaches the front door, taking a deep breath before stepping into the quiet home. Tony glances behind himself and mutters a low and hopeful, “Wish me luck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying the consistent Saturday updates, and the angst ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they spend some quality time together, no fights, no secrets, and absolutely no surprises.

“Ready to go? Or do you want to eat something real quick?” Peter asks, hoping Tony will want to head out soon; the tension in the air is still thick from the argument that Tony and his mother got into last night, so he was in a  _ bit _ of a rush to leave.   
  


“Nah,” Tony peeks around the corner and catches a glimpse of Maria and May speaking quietly together in the living room. “We should just get out of here. I can grab something while we're out.” Tony grabs his sunglasses out of his back pocket, the red tinted lenses hide any sign of resentment Peter knows is there. Tony opens the front door and steps out first, quickly heading towards the bikes.

 

“Tony, wait for me at the bike rack,” he nods and continues on silently, “I'll just be a minute.” 

 

Peter heads into the room where the two women are sitting with neutral looks on their faces.  “Since you guys are heading out,” May says, setting down her coffee mug and reaching for a small book, “would you mind taking this back for me? I got it a couple of days ago when we went out, but I changed my mind.” 

 

“No problem. We’ll be back later, alright? Love you May,” Peter says as he grabs the novel and heads towards the door. He does a quick jog down to where Tony is, the other man leaning on his bike while checking his phone. “Ready?” Peter asks as he mounts his bike and takes off from the driveway, the crunch of the gravel behind him being answer enough.

 

Tony rides right besides him, the warm air messing up his curly hair ever so slightly. When they both glance at each other, an idea pops into Peter's head. 

 

“Can you ride with no hands?” He gives a perfect model of how it should look and Tony raises an eyebrow. 

 

“Can you ride with no hands,” Tony parrots thoughtfully. “I don't think that I can,” he rolls up his sleeves one by one, “but I've never been one to back down from an honest challenge.” He eases his hands down to his sides shakily and his bike swerves for a moment, but he somehow redirects it and the two find themselves making a competition out of “who can keep their hands off of the wheel the longest.” 

 

Tony wins, much to Peter's anguish, but as they finally arrive at the library, he finds all of his previous giddiness returning. The two lock up their bikes and take a step out of the sweltering heat, the contact of the building’s cool air seemingly evaporating the sweat off of his back and forehead.

 

Peter starts by dropping May's book into the drop off area before showing Tony around, beginning at the computer section.

 

“This is where some homeless guy always comes to sit and watch people. It’s super creepy, but you wanna know what's even worse than him watching people?” 

 

Peter then points over at the kids section right next to the computer area.

 

“Children,” Tony answers, the mock fearfulness in his voice causing Peter to sigh. 

 

“No, him  _ watching the children _ .” 

 

“I know what you meant,” Tony chuckles as his gaze then falls upon several boxes full of books by the checkout area. “Oh yeah, didn't you mention last night that there would be free books being given away? There are some boxes full of ‘em over there. You wanna go check them out?” 

 

Peter turns his attention towards said boxes and his eyes widen and his mouth shifts to a small. 

 

“I almost forgot! There might even be something good.” They saunter over to the many cardboard boxes stacked to the brim with different sized books.

 

“You read any good books back at home? Or do you have a butler do it for you?” Peter jokes, but as he says it he realizes that he’s genuinely curious if rich people do something that absurd. Tony scoffs and rummages through the box, eventually producing a copy of  _ Futile Devices. _

“Ha ha, very funny. But no, I happen to read all of my books myself; I read this one quite recently actually. You should read it sometime.” Tony hands it to Peter, the other briefly scanning the summary and deciding to take it with him.

 

“I think I will,” he says with a smile.

 

Peter and Tony continue to rummage through the box, but don’t find anything else of interest. Moving onto another box, he finds his attention drawn to a familiar blue and yellow cover; he takes hold of the spine and pulls it out before gasping lightly: a lightly worn copy of  _ The Mystery Of Love.  _

 

“I can't believe they have this here— they’re just giving it away! You ever read this?” Peter hands Tony the paperback and he turns it over, glancing over the description on the back before shrugging and handing it back to him. 

 

“Nope.” 

 

Peter feigns disgust, “You haven't— why, it's only  _ the  _ best book ever written in all of literary history, period point blank. You have to get it. I'm giving you no other options.”   
  


“This is your absolute favorite book?” Tony muses and Peter nods his head vigorously.

 

“Well then, I guess I have no other choice.” 

 

****

 

“When can I look? I'm not exactly known for my patience.” Tony pouts at Peter from across the booth, trying hard not to sneak a look at the message that Peter was scribbling down in quick cursive. Peter makes a thoughtful face and scribbles more down, taking his sweet time. “You writing me a ten page essay on the authors accomplishments or something?” He blocks Tony’s prying gaze of his message with his hand and takes it away once he finishes writing on the inside of the book.

 

“No, it's called _waiting_. You should learn how to do it some time,” Peter retorts with a smirk as he closes it, “You have to promise me that you won't peek, not until you go back home to your big fancy mansion or whatever in New York.” Peter stresses, sliding the book back to Tony's side of the table; Tony heaves an exaggerated sigh. 

 

“Fine,” he grabs it and sets it down in his lap,” I promise I won't read it until I get back to my _ big fancy mansion _ .”

 

“Good.” Peter grins and takes a bite of the doughy waffle on his plate. The small diner was only occupied by the two of them and an elderly couple, the latter seated over by the large television propped up on the wall. The North Carolina news channel plays quietly, but nobody seems to be paying it any attention.

 

“Quick question: Why Littleton? Of all the places to visit during the summer, why here?” Tony asks, both hands propped under his chin in a show of curiosity. “I mean, don't get me wrong, they have amazing waffles, but Hawaii and Florida have a much better view of, well... Everything.” 

 

Peter sighs.“It's not like that. Besides, not all of us can be as privileged as you Tony. In case you don't already know, my parents died when I was a kid; they came here for their honeymoon, and after they died the lake house was put under May’s possession. Now we just come here every summer to take a break from the city and all of its people. I guess it also kind of serves as a reminder of them.” 

 

Tony frowns a bit at the jab but replaces it with a chuckle. “ Well, you're not wrong there, but I really am sorry about your parents. I can't even imagine how you feel.”

 

“It's alright. It was a long time ago, I don't exactly have many memories of them. But thanks, it means a lot to hear you say that.” Peter looks down at his empty glass of  water and prays to God that not too many questions are brought up about Queens. In attempt to veer the conversation away from his personal life, he changes the topic. 

 

“On a lighter note, last night you told me that you played some pretty awful pranks on your grandmother. I'd love to hear more about all the awful things you enjoy doing in your free time.” Peter quirks both his mouth and eyebrows, hoping the question will make do.

  
“That, my dear, would take hours, especially depending on what you'd consider awful.” 

 

“I think we have time. Besides, I'm sure they won't kick us out if we order something else. Unless, of course, you wanna tell me while we ride our bikes around for a while?” Peter offers, hoping he’ll agree; his conversations with him have honestly been the highlight of this vacation so far.

 

And it's in that single moment, that he realizes that not only are their conversations the highlight of his summer; Tony _is_ the highlight of the summer, and it's only six days in. At that, he brings to light yet another realization. Peter just might love this man.

 

“I guess, but you have to promise not to judge me after I tell you about some of the things I've done.” 

 

Peter puts down a twenty on the table and harrumphs. “I’ll make no such promises.” Tony extends his arm out for Peter and the two walk hand in hand towards the door. Right as the two are leaving the television is turned up abruptly, and the following warning is issued:

 

_ “—word of a possible tropical storm making its way towards the east coast. The hurricane could dissipate before it hits land, or possibly make contact with the following states shown. Officials warn anyone in the highlighted areas move up and away from the storm to avoid power outages, flooding, and destruction of property in case of an emergency. The National Guard is doing it's best with preventive measures alongside Red Cross, but the question is still; will they be able to do it in time?”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry folks, were almost at the finish line. Who knows, maybe I'll do a double update next Saturday? Let me know what you think.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter sees someone he'd much rather not.

Peter shifts in the metal chair, the sun beating intensely on the back of his neck while making any position he shifts to uncomfortable. Across from him, Tony sits in a tight tank top and cargo shorts, the beads of sweat careening down his body. 

 

Tony peers over at Peter, although he's not completely sure his gaze is fixed on him until Tony brushes his foot against his own under the table with a smirk; Tony’s dark sunglasses made it hard to tell where he was really looking.

 

“Man, can you believe it's this busy on a Friday? I mean, it’s almost as though the whole town is in the plaza today!” Peter silently agrees with May, similarly taking notice of how occupied Littleton seems at the moment. People could be seen wandering around the various stores, many of them either in large families, rushing about, or both. 

 

“It's crazy to think that we've only been here a week; it feels like a lifetime ago that we pulled into the driveway.” Peter continues to nod despite not paying much attention to what May is talking about, the heat on his neck making even paying attention difficult.

 

“Looks like the sun is hitting you pretty hard Peter. You wanna switch spots?” Tony's offer reels him back into the current world and he sighs in relief. 

 

“Thanks, I was starting to think I’d burn up.” Peter gets up to swap seats in the outdoor restaurant and immediately feels the shade ease the heat on his neck. Now facing the street and the crowds of people, he takes it upon himself to people watch. 

 

A quiet conversation between the now cordial Maria and Tony lulls Peter into a calm state of mind. His gaze flicks from an older couple he swears he’s seen before, a family of four approaching the grocery store, and a young girl wandering besides what he assumes is her mother. 

 

Peter's focus switches from the entrance of the grocery store across the street, where the majority of the crowd is at, to the parking lot it's in. 

 

Peter watches as a man emerges from a large, beat up truck; he's tall, skinny, and has a familiar face. Peter's blood runs ice cold through his veins, terror fuels his heart rate, and he can hear the thundering of it in his ears.

 

It's Skip. It  _ has _ to be. 

 

The cap he’s wearing hides the majority of his hair, but if the color underneath the hat is white, then he knows it  _ must  _ him. 

 

“I—uh, I can’t. He—can't be.” Peter gasps, his hand flying to his chest (which seems to be squeezing tighter and tighter as the seconds ticked by). He stands up abruptly and sways, then, without hesitation, takes off in the only direction he knows where he can hide and not be found. 

 

“Peter, where are you going?!” Tony shouts after him, serving only to make Peter want to run faster. He imagines Skip climbing into his truck and tracking him down, all the way to his secret hiding spot.  _ No way in hell buddy, not today.  _

 

Even as the confused shouting behind him continues, Peter doesn't look back. 

 

He can’t.

 

Not even for Tony.

 

****

 

“Where in the hell did he just run off to?” May exclaims, standing up after hastily paying for lunch. Tony shakes his head distractedly. 

 

“I have no idea, but he was staring at that guy across the street.” The man just leans against his car nonchalantly, smoking a cigarette.

 

“I don’t know who he is. Do you recognize him Tony?” He shakes his head and feels confusion course through him; Peter isn't one Tony would take for doing irrational things for attention (like himself), so this must be serious. 

 

“Well, we need to find him, wherever he just went.” May bites out, grabbing her keys from her purse. The three of them rush out of the restaurants outdoor area and hop inside her car, speeding off in the direction that Peter ran off to. Tony takes one last glance at the mystery man and watches as he takes his hat off, adjusting his black, curly hair.

 

May does the speed limit, but it feels as if the car is going _ insanely _ slow. All Tony wants to do is find Peter and make sure he’s safe from any harm. They drive down the long road that they last saw Peter on, reaching Littleton’s sign that just “can't wait for their return”.

 

With a huff of frustration, May does a U-turn and they head back the way they came, hoping to spot him the second time around. A myriad of cars whiz by them on their way back into the heart of Littleton, all seeming to be in quite a rush.    
  


“We should head back May,” Maria lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, “maybe he needed to go home and that's where he's at.” May sighs and agrees silently. Changing the route, they drive down the same road Peter and Tony strolled down just two nights ago and head back to the lake house.

 

In an effort to ease everyone's mind, Tony leans forwards and turns on a local radio station. The radio host talks hurriedly, causing him to lean in again and turn the volume up in curiosity. 

 

_ “—So, anyone still in North and South Carolina should probably get going. I’m pretty sure Americans know exactly how dangerous hurricanes can be, I mean everyone’s heard of what Katrina did. Even If you're not directly on the shore, you need to move up and away from this—”  _

 

“Are you  _ serious _ ? I hope Peter is here.” May frets as they speed right into the driveway, all three of them hopping out and rushing inside. 

 

“Peter! Peter are you here? You need to come down honey, we can’t stay here anymore!” May bellows from the bottom of the stairs. When no reply comes, May runs upstairs and Maria checks the bottom floor, leaving Tony to his thoughts.  _ What if something happened to him? Or worse, what if we can't find him and we have to leave him behin— _

 

May nearly tumbles down the stairs, eyes welling up with tears she frantically calls out Peter’s name again.

 

“He’s not here May,” Maria says, out of breath from her trip around the house, “I don't think he ever came back to the house.” That earns a distressed sound from May; she flops down onto the steps and rests her head in her hands. 

 

“Uh— Let me think for a second. Okay, pack up your guy’s stuff and wait out by the cars. May, I'm gonna try and find him outside, alright?” Tony dashes out through the back door, heading towards the lake area, praying that he’ll spot him there.

 

****

 

_ There's absolutely no way in hell he would follow me here, he can't swim. Dumb bastard. _

 

Peter tries to rationalize what he just did to himself; he ran what felt like a marathon to the docks, just so that a guy who may or _may not_ be Skip wouldn't pursue him. He tucks his head in between his knees, remembering the same position from _that_ day.  

 

_ Peter lay curled up in bed, knees pressed tight against his chest and hands hugged them even closer. Fresh tears still rolled down his cheeks, his memory fresh from earlier that day.  _

_ “Peter? You gonna eat dinner?” Mays worried voice called from the other side of his door.  _

 

_ “No, May,” his voice weak as he croaked  back, ”I'm not really hungry.” Which happened to be true;  the guilt and disgust he felt seemed to fill his body to its capacity.  _

 

_ “Alright,” May let out uneasily, obviously aware that something was wrong, ”well, If you wanna talk about anything, I'll be in the kitchen.” He listened to her light footsteps as she moved away from his door, and  _ God  _ did Peter want to scream from a mountain top that he needed help, but the whisper of fear nagged at the back of his skull. An echo of what Skip told him earlier rang out again: _

 

_ ‘“You tell anyone, and we’ll both be in big trouble. You don't want that now, do you?” _ __   
  


_ All Peter could do at the moment was lay in bed and cry, his eyes burning as his thoughts began to get away from him; maybe this would never have happened if he’d have been mor— _

 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts as a large hand grabs his shoulder.  _ God, Skip must have fou _ —

 

“Peter! Where the hell—why’d you run off like that?” Tony's harsh voice startles him. Still sobbing, he can only manage garbled sentences.

 

Tony grabs him by the shoulders, “Peter slow down—just slow down. Take a deep breath in, and let it out.” Peter listens to him and concentrates on his voice, the tingling sensation in his face and hands slowly easing away.

 

“What happened? Peter, please talk to me.”

 

Peter takes his head out of his hands and reveals his puffy face. “Tony I'm so sorry, God, May’s probably worried sick. Lets just go, please?” 

 

“Just tell me what the hell happened! We’re not going anywhere until you do.”

 

Peter lets out a shaky breath, “It's _ personal _ , Tony.” He heaves out a heavy breath and continues, “I don’t— I  _ won't  _ go into detail. There was someone I think I saw that I knew from a long time ago. Someone that... did bad things to me as a kid.  Can we  _ please _ go now?” 

 

“Peter that's… well that’s awful. You shouldn't have had to—I’m sorry I made you tell me.” He’s silent for a moment before he lets out a chuckle. “I can’t help but notice that apologising to you is becoming a bit of a habit,” Tony tries, but when it doesn’t earn a grin his face falls and he sits down next to Peter, wrapping his arms around him. They stay there for a while before Tony suddenly hops up and slap his forehead. 

 

“Oh God, Peter we have to go,” he grabs his arm and tries to pull him up, “we need to get back to the house  _ now _ .” 

 

Peter shakes his head, “I can’t, not yet. Not looking like this.”

 

Before he can protest any further, Tony whisks him off the dock and towards the lake house, where May and Maria were undoubtedly waiting. 

 

Tony runs as fast as he can, dragging Peter along behind him. They eventually near the house, race up the back porch steps, and yank the door open. The two women are nowhere to be seen downstairs, so Tony pulls Peter along as he races up the steps. Tony wastes no time in tossing Peter the small suitcase he arrived with. 

 

“Can you slow down for, like, two seconds Tony?! What the hell are we doing?” He pants, doubling over from the sprint they did. 

 

“Look, there's some sort of hurricane that's on its way here and the amount of people trying to evacuate is probably crazy. Littleton might not get directly hit, but it's not safe to stay here anymore. So pack. _ Now _ .”

 

Peter falters for a second, simultaneously shocked and confused, but soon follows as they stuff everything they brought there back into their bags as quickly as possible. Once they finish, Tony leads the way down the stairs to the front door. Peeking out the small window, Tony spots May and Maria, both worriedly standing by the cars and looking around; it looks as though they had packed their own things and were anxiously waiting on the two of them. Tony reaches to open the door, but Peter grabs his hand.

 

“Tony wait,” he rushes, “I know this is a bad time because of the circumstances, but there's so much we haven't gotten to do. Things we still needed to talk about… Things about  _ us  _ especially.” Peter pauses for a moment when Tony cups his face, smiling grimly. “ _ It's not fair _ Tony. We were supposed to get the entire summer together, but it's only been a  _ week _ !” Peter’s voice cracks at the end, his lip trembling and his eyes sticking to the hardwood floor. Tony tilts Peter’s chin up with a finger to lock eyes with him, and—after only a moment of hesitation—he kisses him. Tony snakes a hand into Peter’s curly locks and grabs his waist to pull them closer, deepening the kiss. He forces himself to pull away after a moment, their time already ticking away.

 

Tony places one final kiss on Peter's forehead and smiles softly upon taking in his face; somehow he manages to look even more  _ Peter _ in the dim lighting.

 

“There’s not enough time Peter, but trust me, I wish we had more time too. We don't have another choice now, but I'll find a way to contact you once I get back.  _ I promise _ .” He sighs, preparing himself to step outside and leave the paradise they’d created here in Littleton. Peter nods, wiping his eyes with his shirt, and steps away from the door so it can be opened.

 

Tony doesn't say anything after that, he just opens the door and ushers Peter outside with him.

Peter and Tony approach the two of them and relief appears across both of their faces, glad the boys are safe.

 

May pulls Peter into a tight embrace, mumbling a quick “Are you okay?”, but once Peter confirms that he is, in fact, not hurt, she glares at him and stuffs his bags into the trunk.

“Tony,” May sighs, “thank you so much for finding him. And Maria, I’m so sorry that the trip got cut short. You two be safe on the road tonight, alright?” The four say their goodbyes, but Peter and Tony’s feels especially brief.

 

“Goodbye Tony,” Peter says, and then adds the last part in with sincerity and a genuine smile,    “it was so nice to meet you.” 

 

Tony chuckles, “It was nice meeting you too. Let's  _ not  _ do this again next summer?” 

 

Peter shakes his head and grumbles, “ _ Definitely  _ not,” he pauses, a soft smile appearing on his face once more, “Someday soon, somewhere else.”

  
“Sure thing, Spider-man. See you around.”

 

And with that, they climb into the car. It all seems a little off—too short, maybe—to Peter, as though any minute he’ll wake up from this bad dream; that never happens, but Peter peers up at the grey sky with sad eyes, noticing the dark clouds forming in the distance. May pulls away from the lake house, and Peter turns to catch a glimpse of Tony’s face through the car window, only to find the other looking back at him. 

 

He flashes him the infamous lopsided grin that Peter had come to love, and they pull out onto the empty road. May immediately puts him on blast for causing all the worry, and for that, of course, Peter apologizes. He leaves out the reason why he did what he did; he’ll save that story for when they get home.

 

All Peter could think about the whole ride back was the note he left Tony, and whether or not he would ever remember to read it; it then occurred to him, a bit numbly, that this might be the last time he’d ever speak to Tony Stark. 

 

Tony could forget about everything if he chose. The same could not be said for Peter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry for the late update, my Saturday was very busy. One last chapter to go!


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

Peter sighs, the long conversation between him and May having gone better than he had expected. With watery eyes, May had listened to him explain what happened so long ago and  how that related to why he ran off in Littleton. Now, May is doing the only thing she really can (or should) do; she’s on the phone with the police station just a couple blocks down the street. 

 

He stretches out on the couch and while some part of him is glad to be home and under the safety of his own roof, the other isn’t. That part of Peter is still not over leaving Littleton; leaving Tony. Peter has been driving himself crazy waiting for him to text, call, something. Hell, anything would suffice. Tony could send a raven with a message tied to it for all Peter cared.

 

He just wanted him to say  _ something _ .

 

Tony has been the only thing on his mind since yesterday besides the tough conversation he knew had to happen with May. He knows nothing can possibly be the same now that he’s laid all his cards out on the table, but he’s glad. Relieved, even. It almost feels as though a ton of bricks had been lifted off his chest since he told May everything about Skip.

 

Peter hops off the couch and passes by May’s room, where she’s still on the phone with an officer who’s probably advising her and Peter to come into the station and file a report. He thought that the weight of Ben’s recent passing, and now this, would break her; there she was though, pushing through and staying strong. 

 

Peter opens his bedroom door and is glad to find his room spotless; he’d made sure to tidy it up before they left. He walks over to the nightstand that lies between the closet and his bed, taking  his phone and unplugging it from its charger. Peter hopes desperately that he’ll get a text or a call from him saying something, even if it’s just an “it's me” _._ Yeah, Tony is probably the only person he knows who would say something so anonymous and still expect him to know who it is.

 

Then, as if his wishes had miraculously been heard, an “unknown caller ID” flashes bright on his screen. His heart jumps out of his chest, and he immediately scrambles to answer the phone, bringing it to his ear.

 

“Tony?” 

 

**** 

  
  


_ Beep.  _

 

“Hey dad, I’m just leaving this message because I—uh, wanted to know where you were at and when you’d be home. Mom told me she called you on the drive home to let you know we had to leave early, but you didn’t pick up and you aren’t here. So... yeah. I guess call the house phone back whenever you get this, or don’t.” He pauses for a moment and snickers, “Tell Emily I say hello.” 

 

Tony sets down the phone with force, knowing damn well Howard probably wouldn’t call back; it was worth the shot anyways. Maria was apparently listening in on the voicemail he left Howard, because as he whirled around he could hear her heels clacking away at the marble floors. She’s probably just heading up to her room to cry herself into a stress induced “power nap”, nothing new. 

 

Tony waits just a few moments until he can hear her loud wailing before realizing that waiting around the—what did Peter call it?  _ Big fancy mansion, or whatever _ —was a waste of time. Coming to the conclusion that unpacking is probably the  _ most  _ productive thing he could be doing at the moment, he begins to make his way down the long corridor; pouring himself a glass of alcohol sounded a lot more appealing at the moment, but he didn’t really feel like Peter would appro—

 

Tony sighs, pushing that destructive thought out of his head as he reaches his destination. His room is a complete mess, his projects—or as Maria likes to call them,  _ trash _ —scattered on various flat surfaces. 

 

Over on the other side of the room is a bin, inside of which lies an unused heap of scrap metal and wires; he had planned on making a homemade taser with the parts, just for the hell of it, but then they had left for the trip. Walking past all of the mess he’d left behind, Tony grabs his worn  suitcase and lifts it onto his bed.

 

Opening it up, he realizes he really didn't bring too much considering they were  _ supposed _ to be there for a month. Tony files away the clothing he’d packed into his drawers, most of them sloppily folded due to their hastened departure; going for the last pile of clothes, he pulls up a partially folded pair of pants before hearing a dull  _ thud _ . 

 

Looking down, Tony stares at a slightly worn book for a moment before recognizing it as none other than the copy of  _ The Mystery of Love _ that Peter had gifted him _.  _ Tony tilts his head to the side and bends down to grab the item, fondly recalling the exact look Peter gave him when he said that he’d never read it before. Suddenly remembering that Peter wrote him a note on the inside, one that he was now _ allowed _ to read, Tony opens the book and smiles at the light and quick handwriting that could only belong to one person. 

  
  


_ By the time you read this I've probably fallen deeply in love with you. _

 

_ If so, just know that you are a very lucky man. _

 

_ If not, then I’m gonna feel very stupid for writing this. _

 

_ Come see me in Queens sometime Tony. _

 

_ Yours truly,  _

_ Spider-Man _

 

_ (718)-238-6644 _

 

Tony chuckles softly at the writing; shaking his head lightly before he pulls out his phone, types in Peter’s number, and raises the phone to his ear with his heart pounding in his chest.

 

_ “Tony?” _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you had fun while it lasted. I had so much fun writing this with my wonderful beta and don't worry, this will not be the last of these two ;)


End file.
